


Fairbanks, 1960

by stitchy



Series: Astronaut AU [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Astronauts, First Time, M/M, Non-powered AU, Romance, before they are astronauts but in their souls they are astronauts, historical setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 07:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/pseuds/stitchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pilots Steve and Tony meet for the first time and fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairbanks, 1960

**Author's Note:**

> When I first started drawing the Astronaut AU it was scattered art that didn't necessarily fit together realistically or chronologically, but when I Got Serious about developing a whole story, I wrote a[ Alaskan Bush Pilot Steve short comic](http://stitchyarts.tumblr.com/post/129149547987/astronaut-au-steve-and-tony-meet-before-their) to explain Steve and Tony's origins a little. About a week later I started writing the Galeas III comic which takes place six years later.

    Steve leans against his plane and waits. This last minute contract threw the kind of money at him that usually indicated oil business, but that doesn’t quite tally with the source of the referral. This is something else. When a jeep pulls up to the field and the man that exits waves it away without unloading any cargo, he’s stumped.  
  
   “ _You’re_ my bush pilot?” the man asks, just loud enough that Steve can hear a note of amusement over the low howl of the wind.  
  
   “You’re the know-it-all Danvers sent?” Steve shoots back.  
  
   “Stark.”  
  
   “Rogers,” he offers, shaking hands and ushering him into the cabin door.  
  
   “Tell me, Rogers, what’s a nice New York boy like you doing all the way out here?”  
  
   “I could ask you the same,” he says, pulling on a headset, “but Danvers must have said ‘classified’ about fifteen times.”  
  
   “She’s better about that than I am.”  
  
   “Oh, are you a loudmouth?” he grins.  
  
   “Loud?” Stark shoots him a wicked look as he starts flicking switches. “I break the sound barrier for a living.”

    _Oh great, she’s taunting me with a hotshot test pilot_ , Steve thinks. Danvers was still pulling her usual stunts, then.

   They fly north to a remote town so small the address is just longitudinal coordinates, which simultaneously excites and infuriates Stark. The trip takes long enough to burn the five hours of daylight they get this time of year. Steve's flown a passenger-only flight every so often, but it's never been such good company before. Nevermind the guy has looks that could give Gable a run for his money, if anyone was asking Steve’s opinion. They talk about all the planes they’ve flown, all the planes they’d like to fly, and where they’d like to go. Stark says "To the moon," and Steve very seriously agrees.

    Steve waits for Stark in the plane while he goes to meet with a Russian seller that claims to have an sample of a near impossible to synthesize alloy. He'd spent an hour of the flight explaining how it was prime material for orbital aeronautics but with the way foreign relations had been going, mines for it were hard to come by. _So much for ‘classified’_ , Steve thinks.

   He checks the radio for weather and has his sandwich for lunch while he idly wonders if Danvers thought of him for this job because of his interest in space back in flight school.

    Stark trudges back towards the plane, finally, looking like a figure in a snowglobe. He climbs back into his seat, shaking his head.

    "The sample was tainted."

   Steve can’t help but feel personally disappointed by the set back.

   “I’m sorry the lead on your alloy was a dud, Stark. But don’t let it ruin Alaska for you.”

   “C-call me T-Tony,” he chatters, clearly unused to the cold Steve takes for granted after four years in the Yukon. It certainly helps that he’s been feeling an extra simmer in his blood all day. Even the dry shop talk about the latest model Lockheed plane felt like a prelude to something else, with the way Tony looks at him.

   “There’s another jacket just behind your seat if you want it.”  
  
   Tony twists in his seat to reach for it, and wraps it around his shoulders immediately. He makes a throaty sound that Steve can’t help but want to hear again. “This yours?” he asks. “Smells good.”

   That stops Steve in his tracks. He isn't sure what initially tipped him off. It could have been the way Stark first sidled up to him, dark eyes focused, barely blinking despite the stinging cold air. Or maybe something Danvers had said on the phone, before they even met? Whatever it is, now he’s starting to think he’s not barking up the wrong tree.

   “Tell you what Tony, when we get back to Fairbanks I’ll buy you a drink,” he offers.

   “Well, at least the trip won’t be a total waste,” Tony says with an eloquent twist in the corner of his mouth.

   “Sure, you got to spend ten hours flying with me, freezing your ass off.” Steve grins.

      He tells Tony stories about he and Danvers in the Air Force on the trip back. Tony tells him about his experience in Marine Corps Aviation and isn’t pushy enough to ask why he left the military, but Steve tells him about Bucky anyway. Talking about the old crew at flight school makes him realize he misses having other pilots around.

      When they land, Steve finally asks.

   “She sent you out here to recruit me for something, didn’t she?” Sure, Tony needed to come meet with the seller, but Danvers could have let him hire any pilot in the bush, this meeting felt like it was engineered for his temptation, one way or the other.  
  
   “Wait a minute,” Tony squints. “No, she didn’t give me orders, but I was debating asking if you had interest in the program, if it wouldn’t be too complicated after-” he comes to a stop, frustrated. “Damnit, Carol! I thought it was my idea!”  
  
   Steve laughs and pulls his and Tony’s rucksacks out of the cabin, then they crunch across the snowy airfield towards the main road where they can get a cab.

   “What was going to be too complicated after?” Steve asks, when they’re standing alongside the empty street in a pool of lamplight.

   “Whatever I was planning on after that drink you promised,” Tony says, squaring his shoulders.

   “Maybe you should just find out now,” he suggests, hoping he’s right.

      Tony drops his bag off his shoulder and Steve unconsciously mirrors it, and he’s so glad he does. When Tony steps up to him with their faces so close he could count every snowflake caught on his eyelashes, Steve has both hands free to reach out and pull him the rest of the way.

   The night air is far too cold for it, but when their lips meet he can’t help but groan and lick his way into the other man’s mouth. It stings with cold as much as it burns him with satisfaction to press together open-mouthed. It’s as instinctual to burrow his nose and kiss the warmth of Tony’s fur-collared neck as it is to spring apart when he he hears the whirr of motor and crunch of wheels on the road. Not a cab, but not a chance worth taking, either.

   "D’you already have a room in Fairbanks?" Steve asks. He rubs his prickling nose and mouth, gratified by the aggressive shade of pink on Tony’s face.

   "I was just gonna wing it," he admits.

   Another two cars approach, the second being what they’re looking for. Steve puts a gloved hand in the air.  
  
   “Good. Then you don’t have any arrangements to cancel when you come with me.”

   The cab stops, and Steve puts both of their bags in the back before getting in and giving the driver directions. The space between them in the back seat is crowded by reluctant restraint. The extra jacket was left in the plane and Tony is shivering again, making Steve wish he could wrap around him right now. He settles for letting his hand drift next to his thigh and exchanging heated glances in between conversation with the cabbie.

   At the motel, Steve invites Tony into the room he stays at any time he’s in Fairbanks. There’s no TV and he has to go to the office to make a call, but they give him a good rate, so it’s home most of the month. He looks at a pile of patterned sweaters folded on the chair and a stack of science fiction paperbacks on the nightstand and figures it's as ready for company as it will ever be. They put their bags down and Steve kicks off his boots before pulling shut the heavy curtains in the window. It cuts down the draft some, but when Steve turns around again Tony is sitting on the edge of bed struggling to untie his boots with frozen fingers. Steve drops to his knees in front of him and lays his hands on Tony’s to stop him and help.  
  
   “You’re gonna fly me around _and_ pull off my boots for me? That’s some full service,” Tony says, leaning back so he can sit on his hands to warm them up a bit.

   “I’d expect nothing less if I were to let you take me for a flight some time.” Steve tosses the boots by his own and straightens up.  
  
   “Naturally. And what else do you offer to your heat-challenged tourists? I’m asking as a friendly competitor.” His lips are a little blue, Steve notices when he leans in to kiss him again. Cold. And though it’s lovely to have more privacy than is afforded by standing by the side of the road, he runs a thumb over Tony’s cold-stung cheek and pulls back.

   “You ought to go warm up in the shower,” he says.  
  
   Tony grumpily agrees and ditches his coat and sweater before slinking off to the bathroom announcing that he intends to use all the hot water in the state before shutting the door.  
  
      Steve makes himself busy hanging up coats and stripping to his thermal shirt. He turns down the bedding and sits with his ledger to jot down fuel expenditure and mileage for the day, a few mechanical notes. Next to the date he writes ‘Met TS’. Not because he thinks he’d forget- but there’s something exhilarating about committing the moment to paper. He hears the water turn off and pipes groan, and then a puff of steam floats out the door as Tony waltzes out in a towel, clothes folded over his arm.  
  
   “Put those on the radiator, and then-” Steve shuts his ledger, “-come here.”

   “I can’t tell if my watch gave up the ghost in the cold or not. What time is it?” Tony arranges his things so they’ll be warm in morning and leaves the watch on his bag on his way towards Steve and the bed.  
  
   “Quarter past nine,” Steve pats the space next to him, drinking in the sight. If he could, he’d take a picture and tuck it into his ledger. Something tells him he’ll be remembering this for a long time.  
  
   “Watch’s right, then. I’m just totally thrown,” he says. He kneels on the other side of the bed and Steve slides himself onto his back. Tony leans over him on one elbow, spreading a hand over Steve’s chest.  
  
   “I think I know what you mean.” Well, something a little different, but there’s really no way to explain it to Tony yet. He reaches out a hand to thread through Tony’s still wet hair and satisfies himself with how much warmer he is after his shower. Bending, Tony kisses him again, and there’s no sting this time, only the heat of exhalation and smiling lips. Steve loves that he can taste Tony’s grin, and tries to press back into it all the hopeful promise that's rattling around in his heart.

   “I know I seem unimpressed with Alaska, but I can see one upside of nineteen-hour nights,” Tony murmurs.  
  
   “Oh, what’s that?” Steve’s practically buzzing, he’s so pleased.  
  
   “I can take my time with you tonight.”

   Tony slides one arm under Steve’s neck and with the other trails toward his belt, dragging his nails through the waffled knit of his shirt. Steve lifts his hand to touch Tony’s bare chest, hot and damp, and is suddenly overwhelmingly aware he needs to have as much of his skin touching it as possible. He sits up a moment so he can pull his shirt overhead, and Tony takes advantage of his momentary blindness to slip his hands across Steve’s chest, mapping muscles with his fingers and giving his nipples an experimental rub.  
  
   “I can’t believe you’re built like this and you have the nerve to live someplace subarctic where you’d need to put on four layers just to check the mail,” he pouts.  
  
   “I really am thoughtless like that,” Steve smirks. He drops his shirt over the edge of the bed and starts on his pants and long johns.  
  
   “I’ll be writing a strongly-worded letter to your supervisor on the subject,” Tony promises, watching him slip out of his pants and kick the blankets further down so they can fold themselves in. He takes off the towel and sinks into the covers alongside Steve, pressing close from shoulder to toe with a little shiver. Steve hauls him by the waist so he’s stretched out across his chest. He can feel every goosebump and he finds them both more than half hard.

   “I’m my own supervisor. You can just dictate your letter to me,” Steve says. He’s spent all day listening to this self-proclaimed loudmouth talk, and he doesn’t want him to shut up now.

   Tony kisses him. “Dear Sir. _Ahem_.” He does a little shuffle with his shoulders to get further under the blankets, simultaneously succeeding in rolling their hips together so his hot erection slots alongside Steve’s, already leaking. Tony reaches down with one hand and grips their cocks together. Steve hisses and lends him a hand. “I regret to inform you that your most distinguished and incredibly handsome pilot, a one Captain Steve... do you have a middle initial, snowflake?” Tony pauses and takes a detour with his mouth over one pectoral and all along a collarbone, while Steve tries to pull himself together enough to remember if he does, in fact, have a middle name.  
  
   “G. Grant,” he puffs.  
  
   “A one Steven G. Rogers failed to comply with my expectations regarding- uhn...” Tony pants, “-optimal dresscode.” Steve rolls his hips into a united jerk of their hands and thinks he might actually pass out. “In future, please advise no more than one outdoor layer when operating small aircraft. And!” Tony punctuates with a light nip of teeth “-a maximum of _nothing_ when operating in the bedroom.”

   “Should get thermals back on before we-” Tony stops his halfhearted protest with a finger to his lips. Right, right, leave the full sentences to Tony.  
  
   He drops his voice an octave, pushing and pulling with every word, “Sincerely, Anthony E. Stark. Post Script- No, no Post Script, I- Oh, _Steve_.”  
  
   Steve snaps.

   He rolls them over so Tony lands on his back with another one of those throaty little sounds he had liked when Tony was wrapped up in his jacket earlier. His hands find Tony’s and interlock while they kiss, tongues tasting and slipping against each other. He shifts to regroup, knocking apart Tony’s thighs with a knee and settling between them. Just as suddenly, Tony’s ankles are hooked around him and he’s managing as much of a word as he can while Steve sucks on his lip, “-Close.”

   Steve mashes his face into Tony’s neck, where he can pick up every tremble and the jolting pulse under his lips while he reaches down again to stroke his cock. “PleasepleaseSteve”s and “Ah, Captain!”s are uttered in increasing volume until Steve shushes him, free hand petting his cheek.

   “I know you’re eager to prove yourself, but you don’t have to break the sound barrier _tonight_ ,” he sighs.

   Tony whines pitifully and Steve gets the idea he might like to be talked to as much as Steve has. He closes his eyes to focus on only the pleasure of his partner and works a squeeze with a bit of twist he already knows he likes and whispers to him, “This is special. Tony, honey. Come on and I’ll hold you all the stupidly long night,” he promises. He’s hard and aching in a full body consuming way, but all he wants is to take care of Tony first, because he’ll only have one shot at this first, perfect night with him. Tony shudders and comes underneath him, gasping. Steve opens his eyes to look at Tony again, sweaty foreheads pressed together, a stain of red across his face and splashing down as far as his chest. “God, you’re the most gorgeous thing,” he tells him. Tony shakes his head.

   "Nuh uh,” he breathes, “You were when I first saw you, standing there with your bolt-bucket.” Steve kisses him soundly. He probably would have socked anyone else for teasing his plane. “Do you know what else I thought, Steve?"

   "Tell me, Tony."

   "I can't let him out of my sight without making sure I'll see him again,” Tony admits.

   "All right then. We'll make a date." He means it. Tony knows this is something special, too, he can tell. He bends down to kiss him again.

   "And you think about the space program, meanwhile. Since apparently that’s the whole point of this,” Tony says, getting his breath back.  
  
   Steve laughs, “Apparently.”

   Tony swipes a hand through the mess on his belly and uses it to return Steve’s attention to another mission, slicking him up.

   “Why don’t you open me up and have your wicked way with me, Captain Rogers?” he asks darkly. Now there’s an invitation Steve won’t have to take his time to consider.

    Steve follows Tony’s lead and prepares him while he lectures Steve on whatever topic occurs to him for several minutes. Meanwhile, Steve is doing his level best not to spoil the whole effort before it gets going. The sight of his fingers stretching Tony and making him thrash so spectacularly that he knocks the books off the nightstand would probably kill a lesser man. Tony’s still rambling about aeronautics when Steve finally has him ready and hoisted in his lap.

   “Plus- I bet if you sit in a simulator with me for a few days you won't be able to help but fall in love with me,” Tony teases, arms and legs wrapped around an already very besotted Steve.

   He sits back on his heels and lets Tony start at his own pace. “It might be too late for that.”

Tony melts into him, and it’s more thrilling than flying without instruments, or landing on ice. It’s stupid, but Steve thinks, _Well there’s being a bush pilot blown out of the water. Better find a new job._ It doesn’t take much to put him over the edge, after that.

   Afterwards they fall asleep without managing to put back on long underwear, and wake up the next morning in the “Seriously, it’s _still_ dark!?” Steve pulls a shivering Tony into his arms again and offers to buy breakfast, assuring Tony that there are unlimited quantities of hot coffee to accompany this promise.  
  
   “It’s the least you can do, really. You never did buy me that drink,” Tony reminds him.  
  
   Steve kisses his head. “How do you know that wasn’t my plan all along to make sure I’d see you again?”

   “You’re right. Never buy me that drink, just string me along forever.”

   “So clever.”

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Also check out [ a mini comic of Steve and Tony's 2nd or 3rd date!](http://stitchyarts.tumblr.com/post/131986623647/fiddles-with-hiddles-lips-is-a-goddess-and)  
>    
> follow [stitchyarts](http://stitchyarts.tumblr.com/)  
> on tumblr for more Marvel art :D


End file.
